Freefall
by wildpeace
Summary: Growing up is hard. You run, you trip, you fall. Having friends to pick you up at the end is key. Even if it does mean they have to spend an hour hiding in a bathroom. Mike/Tina.


Tina's sitting at her desk in a pair of Mike's old boxer shorts and a threadbare tank top, tapping her pen against the edge in a rhythm that matches the erratic tune in her head. College application forms stare back at her, blank save her name and date of birth, and she sighs deeply. It seems to come all the way from her toes.

From where he lays sprawled across her bed, elbow deep in Spanish notes, Mike's voice is soft. " You okay T?"

Tina stares at the paperwork on her desk and throws her pen down. It skitters across the desk, coming to rest beneath a picture of the two of them taken at Quinn's summer pool party - all wide sun-kissed smiles and swathes of slick, bare skin. It seems like years ago instead of weeks. " Yeah, I guess. Just can't get myself going on this."

He pulls himself up, ignoring the way his notes scatter and fall off the bed, landing on his abandoned jacket, and comes behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, leaving the nape of her neck exposed, and she can't help but shiver when he presses a kiss against the bare skin he finds there. " How much do you still have to do?"

She laughs, hollowly, knowing he is reading over her shoulder. " Pretty much all of it."

Because she knows Mike, knows his touch and his face and his expressions backwards and inside out, she can tell that he's frowning into her hair. " This is the Tisch one?" Tina only nods. " I thought Rachel said the deadline was Friday?"

Tina sighs, feeling the muscles in her shoulders tighten. Her voice is guarded, " It is."

Mike moves from behind her to perch on the desk. His face is a mixture of confusion and worry. " And you haven't even started the essay question yet?"

She shrugs.

" Why not?"

It's the question she's been asking herself for almost a month, since Miss Pillsbury had handed her the pack of application forms with a bright smile on her perky face. Since Tina was thirteen years old her eyes had always been set in one direction: Tisch, Tisch, Tisch. It was actually something she and Rachel had in common. But lately, every time she tries to put her pen on the page, something stops her.

The words, when they break through her lips, are almost as much of a surprise to her as they are to Mike. " I'm thinking about not sending it. About not applying."

There's something about actually saying it that makes a great weight lift off of her shoulders, but looking up, Mike's face reads surprise, and confusion, and utter bewilderment. " Why?"

Tina knows there are reasons, are explanations, but she's spent so long pushing the thoughts and feelings away that all she can do is shrug. " I don't know... I just think maybe it's not where I want to go anymore."

Since Kindergarten Mike and Tina have been in and out of each others' lives, for better or worse, but she's never seen him look at her that way he is looking right now. She pulls one leg up to her chest, arms wrapping around it, defensive, as he stares at her.

" Are you serious? Tina, I mean, are you *serious*?"

He's mad, or something like mad, or upset, or disappointed, and it almost makes her want to take the words back, but biting her lip she summons up her courage and nods her head. " Yeah. Yes, I am. I mean, maybe I don't even want to be a performer."

Mike is aghast. " But Tina, that's your *dream*."

" It *was* my dream. Two years ago. Things change, Mike."

She's willing for him to understand, wishing that he could look inside her right now and read all the thoughts that are going on in her head. But while Mike is sensitive and sweet and listens to her with conviction, he's not a mind reader. She bites her lip as his face screws up in confusion.

" I don't understand T, this is what you always talked about. What *we* always talked about." He pushes himself off the desk, pacing the length of her small room, and then stops, scuffing his socked foot against the floor. He doesn't meet her eyes, and his voice is very soft. " Is this because of me?"

Her heart pounds in her chest when he asks, his voice full of fear, and all she wants to do is throw herself across the room and into his arms. But she stays frozen on the chair. " No. Yes. Maybe...I don't know. Would it be bad if it was?"

Two years ago, Tina was a shy goth with a stutter, who hid in groups behind flamboyant friends. Two years ago, Tina ached to break away, into the spotlight, to perform, to let people see her. But two years ago, Tina didn't have Mike. Mike, who sees her without the glitz and glitter. Mike, who somehow, without intention or force, has become part of her new dream.

She wants to tell him that, wants to explain that he's taught her about *priorities* and *reality* and how her dreams might have changed but are still just as valid, but when she looks up, Mike's face is taut and his cheeks are high with colour. His voice is quiet but hard. " I can't believe after all this time you think I'm the kind of guy who wants you to love me more than you love *you*."

" I don't - Mike, I don't, that's not what this is about."

He's pacing again, his hands flying in all directions, punctuating his speech. His down-turned lips are almost too much for her, and he rakes his fingers through his hair. " Seriously, Tina, I've googled it. There are dance scholarships out there, especially for guys." Stopping, he turns to her, his eyes wide and tinged with something like desperation. " I'm not going to hold you back, I promise."

The very notion makes her stomach clench. " Mike of course not! Don't be ridiculous."

" I'm being ridiculous?" His fingers are through his hair again, leaving it sticking up in all directions, uncontrolled and wild. His voice is rough. " Tina, you're amazing. Your singing is beautiful and you are *so* stunning when you perform. I don't believe that you don't want to share that."

Slowly, Tina licks her lips and stands up from her chair. Walking forward, she reaches out for his wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. " Maybe - maybe I just don't want that to be my everything. Maybe I don't want to have to choose between having a career and having a life."

She wants him to hear that her life - the life she wants - is just him and her and wherever they end up. That she can find a career, that she can work, that she can be happy, whatever, as long as he is by her side. But his face, pained, says that he doesn't.

Mike looks down at her hand, studying the way her black fingernails pop against the pale skin of his arm. " You think I'll stop you from having both. You think I'll make you choose."

" No!"

Her voice is aghast, but he doesn't listen. Instead, he lifts her fingers from his arm, taking a step back. " I won't, Tina. I wouldn't do that to you. I love you, I want you to have everything. And if you're stuck choosing between me and Tisch - and your dreams - then..." he pauses, as though the words are caught in his throat. His eyes are bright in the evening dim. " I won't let you." Taking a step back, he rubs at his eyes with the back of his wrist, and Tina shocked to see wetness when he pulls his sleeve down. " I'd rather you were without me and living your dream then with me and settling."

Tina feels herself panicking, her heart slamming hard against her ribs like Finn's frenetic drumming. " Mike, that wasn't what I - " she starts, but her lips and teeth and tongue get muddled and before she can explain herself, his hand is on the doorknob.

" I love you Tina," he says, but the words don't make her heart soar like they usually do.

" Mike - "

" I gotta' go."

He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, and she can hear his feet pounding down the stairs. It takes a long moment to register exactly what has happened - Mike's walked out on her, he's gone, they might be over - before her stomach revolts and she almost wretches, landing on her knees in the soft carpet. A sob rips from her chest, first one, then another, and another and another until she's choking and hyperventilating, and tears are pouring down her face.

Crawling across her floor, she pulls her phone from the desk, ignoring the way it makes her application form - her *stupid, fucking application form* - fall onto the carpet. Blinking through tears, she scrolls down, finding the right picture. Hitting it, she hears the phone dial, and she puts it to her ear.

It rings for what seems like forever, and she's squeezing her eyes shut, hoping, praying for an answer.

Finally, it connects.

" Why hello Tina Cohen-Chang, what can I do for you today?"

With that, she collapses into sobs, and barely pauses long enough to hear him say he's on his way.

XxX

When Kurt arrives on the Cohen-Chang's doorstep, he is not surprised to see an absence of her parents' cars. Tina's mom and dad often work late and trust her to be responsible in the house alone. What he *is* surprised to see is Santana already waiting by the door, hip cocked and concern written clearly across her face.

The blonde on the motorbike he has just seen tearing off in the other direction suddenly makes more sense.

" Santana," he greets, a little unsure, hoisting is messenger bag onto his shoulder. " What - "

" Am I doing here?" she finishes for him, flicking her dark hair behind her shoulder. " Same thing as you." Kurt knows the surprise must be written on his face, because Santana raises an eyebrow. " Look, I know sometimes it seems like I hate you all, but this is a legit Glee-mergency. Tina's my girl."

" Try the door?"

" Locked as tight as Q's chastity belt."

Kurt watches as Santana looks around - as though checking no one is watching her - and then uses one of the Cohen-Chang's ornate potted plants as a step-up, reaching into the sconce next to the front door. Feeling around, she wobbles slightly in her pointy-heeled boots, making Kurt cringe and take a step closer, before pulling her hand back out triumphantly.

In truth, Kurt's kind of amazed. " You know where she keeps the spare?"

With a half-shrug, Santana slides it into the lock, turning the key and opening the door with a shove of her shoulder. " You've been gone a while."

Kurt knows she doesn't mean the words with any venom - unusually - but they sting none-the-less. It's the same feeling he gets whenever he sees Lauren Zizes in the choir room, or someone makes a joke about 'Trouty Mouth', or Brittany announces she feels sick in rehearsal and Rachel skyrockets across the room. Just driving home his absence.

He notices the feeling even more when Santana takes the lead up the stairs and heads straight to Tina's bedroom door - obviously a frequent visitor to the house. Mentally counting back, Kurt realises he hasn't stepped foot in Tina's home for nearly six months.

Before they even open the door they can hear the sobs, and when they do it's enough to break their hearts in tandem. Tina lies, curled in the fetal position in the corner of her bed, cheeks stained with tear tracks and mascara. Kurt can't help but think she looks strange without the coloured streaks in her hair - like somehow the rainbows have been all cried out.

" I knew it was bad when she called," Santana whispers to Kurt as they take in the sight before them. " Brit answered the phone and thought it was a mouse."

Tina barely raises her head when they walk in.

" Oh babe." The words are gentle out of Santana's mouth, and make Kurt hesitate for a moment, but then the bitchy brunette is grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the bed, and then they're both helping Tina upright. Santana rubs her back while Kurt brushes away the black streaks with the pad of his thumb. They simply hold her between them until the sobbing has calmed into hiccups, and then Santana stands and puts her hands on her hips. " Right," she grabs Tina's hand. " You, shower." Leading her by the shoulders she steers Tina towards the bathroom, only looking behind her long enough to flick a well-manicured finger in Kurt's direction. " You, chocolate and chick flicks, stat."

Though Kurt's used to taking control in these situations, he's quite happy to just give Santana a deferring nod, quickly moving through Tina's room to collect up the appropriate dvds, nail polishes and hair brushes that they might need. Rifling in her closet he pulls out her favourite pair of pyjamas - the ones she's had since she was 14 and are somewhat threadbare but gorgeously soft and comfy - and leaves them on the dresser next to the bathroom door. He doesn't question the fact that Santana stays in the room when the water starts running, especially when he hears the two girls voices mingling in low murmurs, one punctuated with hiccups and the other smooth and soothing. It's weird, but somehow it makes perfect sense.

It's about five minutes before the door opens and Satana's head pops out, followed by an upturned palm. " Can you get me some - "

" Pyjamas?" Kurt supplies, already holding out the folded items. " Way ahead of you."

Through the cloud of steam he catches sight of Tina's mostly-naked body as she wraps a towel around herself, back bare and pale and a faint curve of her breast and hip as she half turns. He almost feels like covering his eyes - to preserve her modesty - and his momentary discomfort must show one his face because Santana looks confused for a second, and then after glancing behind her, she chuckles. " You are *so* gay."

What's unusual is that the words are teasing, but not mocking, and Kurt wonders how many times that afternoon she's going to surprise him. Wit fails him, and she he just channels his inner third-grader and sticks out his tongue. " Takes one to know one."

She smirks, taking the proffered pyjamas from his hands. " Touche."

Ducking through the door, there's further conversation from within the bathroom, and then both girls reappear. Tina's skin looks damp and her eyes are still bright, but she's less pale and at least her cheeks are scrubbed clean.

Santana leads her to the bed like a wayward toddler, before taking the place next to her. She sits cross-legged, ignoring the way it makes her already short dress creep indecently up her thighs. Kurt takes the comb from the nightstand and scoots onto the bed on Tina's other side, running first his fingers and then the red plastic teeth through her long, wet hair. " Do you want to tell us what happened?"

Something about the rhythmic strokes of the comb, combined with Santana's hand squeezing her knee gives Tina enough wherewithal to take a deep breath. " We - we got in this big fight. He stormed out." Rubbing her eyes with her fist, she lets Santana pull her legs so they drape over her lap. " He thinks I'm giving up my dreams because I'm worried he'll hold me back."

There's silence as the two friends process this information, but Santana is the first to speak. " Are you?"

" No!" Tina's voice is sharp and sure and it's the most together she's seemed since the got there. " Of course not."

" Then why does he think - ?"

" I told him I'm not going to apply to Tisch anymore."

It's Kurt's eyebrows that rise, his fingers stilling in her hair. " You're *not* applying?" When Tina shakes his head, he sucks in a breath, but starts the comb moving again. " Why the change of mind?"

Tina chuckles, and it's watery and wry. " Would you believe it's actually a change of heart?" Reaching behind her, she touches Kurt's elbow so that he stops brushing her hair, and scoots back so that she can look at both of her friends at the same time. " I don't want to be a performer any more. I know I used to - I know I used to say that singing was the thing that made me happiest - but that's changed. *I've* changed." Turning to Kurt, she takes his hand, threading their fingers together. " I love to sing, but I don't live and breath it like you and Rachel. And when I close my eyes and imagine where I'm going to be in ten years, that's not what I see anymore."

" What is?" Kurt asks, his voice gentle but prompting.

The answer is a simple one: " Mike." Tina leans her head on Santana's shoulder, and the other girl doesn't even complain about her wet hair, she simply holds the hand that isn't entwined with Kurt's. " I know it sounds ridiculous, because we're 18 and who ends up with their high school boyfriend, but...he's it. Too many things about performing make me unhappy - the fighting, the drama, the rejections - but Mike...he just makes me feel calm. Steady. Happy." The tears are falling down her cheeks again, and she laughs, rolling her eyes. " Sounds ridiculous, huh?"

Kurt looks over, and is surprised to see his feelings mirrored in Santana's expression. They both shake their heads. " No," he replies, first one to find his voice. " No, that's not ridiculous at all."

" Did you say this to him?" Santana asks, and she's clearly confused, and Kurt feels the same way because he can't imagine anyone - let alone Mike (sweet, adoring, besotted Mike) - walking away from Tina after she'd professed her unending love.

But then Tina is pulling her hands away and she's up off the bed, tugging at the bottom of her pyjama top and chewing on her lip. " I tried but - it didn't come out right. He just got all disappointed like I was...like I was giving up before I started. Like I was afraid to try for something I really wanted. He doesn't understand that I don't *want* it anymore."

Santana shakes her head, frustrated. " You two are the only people I know who could have a major fight about how much you both want a future together. It's honestly ridiculous."

Tina look at her, puppy dog eyes and pouting lips and sighs, knowingly deflating, falling back into Kurt's open arms.

The boy strokes her hair, damp against his cheek, and watches as myriad emotions flicker across Santana's face, too fast to read. In a flash, there's a flurry of movement. " That's it," she states, reaching into her bra for her phone (and seriously, Kurt can *not* figure out where she finds room for that thing). " I wants this better and I wants it now." Pressing number one on her speed-dial, she holds the phone to her ear. " Britbrit? You find him yet?"

Kurt and Tina listen in curiously, arms and legs entangled as Santana and Brittany's voices sound in the quiet of the room.

" I called his Mom but she said he wasn't there and I should try Tina's house. But I know he isn't there because you're there and Tina's sad."

" You try the arcade?"

" Freshman only on DDR. Hey San?"

" Yeah?"

" Don't you think I should have a guy with me?"

" Why?"

" Because...what if I find him and he wants to talk about how bitches be crazy or something?"

Santana pauses, pressing her hand to her forehead, and it's enough to make Tina crack a tiny smile.

" Brit, this is Mike Chang we're talking about. I don't think 'bitches be crazy' is in his vocabulary. Besides, you have a girlfriend."

" So?"

Santana sighs, relenting. " Please just find him okay? Check Puck's - it's closest to Tina's and he always has beer."

" Okay. I will. Give Tina a hug for me."

" Drive safe Brit. And call me when you find him."

As Santana hangs up the phone, her eyes meet Kurt's over the top of Tina's head, and a whole conversation is spoken in silence. Reaching to the pile next to him, Kurt pulls out a dvd. " Moulin Rogue? Bohemia, tangoing whores, kickass songs and Ewan McGregor looking undeniably dashing?"

Santana reaches into her bag and pulls out a box of expensive Belgian chocolates. Pulling the top off, she grabs one and pops it between Tina's lips. " We'll fix this," she promises, wrapping her arms around the other girl, and her voice is filled with such conviction that Tina can almost believe it.

" Okay," she agrees, settling back against the pillows as the credits begin to roll. " Okay."

XxX

The _Tango Roxanne_ is almost over and Tina has slipped into a doze, her head on Santana's lap as the other girl strokes her hair, her legs resting over Kurt's lap. Santana's fingers are roving above the mostly-empty box of chocolates when her bra starts to vibrate and she reaches into her dress to grab her phone.

" Brit?"

Kurt picks up the remote to mute the movie, and so can hear Brittany's jubilant voice. " I found him San! You were right, he was at Puck's and Sam was there too and they were playing Mario Kart and doing shots!"

The noise causes Tina to stir, pulling herself up and rubbing at her sleepy eyes. " She found him?" she mouths at Santana, and at the other girl's silent nod, she lets out a deep breath. " He's okay? Where is he?"

Santana clutches at Tina's hand with her free one, and Kurt grabs the other. Into the phone, Santana asks, " Where are you now?"

" I'm out front."

" So where's Mike?"

" He just went inside. I think he's going upstairs."

There's a flurry of movement in the room. Santana says goodbye to Brittany hanging up the phone, and lets Kurt grab her hand as he leaps off the bed. They both turn toward Tina, who looks relieved, and terrified, and surprised. Kurt leans in first, kissing her on the cheek. " Just explain things to him the way you did to us. But slowly... he's a boy after all."

He winks at her, making her laugh, and then Santana swoops in and grasps her in a tight hug. " You and Mike are end game chica. Deal with it."

They can hear Mike's footsteps on the top stairs, so Kurt grabs Santana's hand and they dive into the nearest open room and slam the door behind them. They've just disappeared when Tina's door creaks open and Mike's face - his hopeful, heartbroken face - appears in the gap.

" Hey," his voice is hesitant and he scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the carpet.

She pulls at stray thread on the bottom of her shorts. " Hey."

There's a moment of tension, where they're both completely frozen, before Tina jumps off the bed and Mike takes a large step forward and then their arms are entangled and their bodies pressed together.

Mike kisses behind Tina's ear. " That was the longest hour of my life," he tells her, breathing the words into her skin. " And I know that makes me pathetic - "

" It doesn't," she promises, shaking her head, holding him tight. " I've cried so much I think I'm seriously dehydrated. I *never* meant to make you feel bad Mike. I *never* want to do that."

He pulls back, just slightly, and takes her by the hand, leading her to the bed. They sit down, facing each other, and when Tina looks at Mike's face she can see that he's pale, and his eyes are shadowed, and her heart clenches at the idea of causing him pain. He takes both her hands and they create a bridge between their two bodies.

" Puck told me I was an idiot for walking out. That I had a girl who was hot, smart and a total badass and somehow was in love with me and I should be begging you to forgive me."

A grin breaks over Tina's face. " Puck thinks I'm badass?"

" A *total* badass. And he's right. About that and about...Tina I'm sorry."

" What are *you* sorry for?" She ducks her chin to her chest, a fleeting look of shame crossing over her dark features. " I should be apologising, Mike, I didn't...I can understand why you're confused. I don't think I explained myself very well."

Mike's silent for a moment, and then he rubs his thumb across her knuckles. " Maybe...maybe you could try again? Tell me why you don't want to go to Tische. Why you don't want to perform."

Taking a deep breath, Tina wiggles her toes so they brush against his shins. She stares at him from under her eyelashes. " When Miss Pillsbury gave us that careers talk I started thinking, you know, about growing up. About...when I close my eyes and imagine myself in five years, ten years, what I see. What I want to see. And I used to *always* imagine myself on a stage, singing, with the audience applauding."

" And now?"

Mike's voice is gentle, and Tina can tell he's listening - he's *really* listening - and so she takes a deep breath. " I see myself coming home to a family. To singing nursery rhymes instead of belting ballads. To having one person smile instead of a whole crowd cheering." She pauses, squeezing Mike's hand. " It's not that my dream is still to perform and I'm setting it aside for you. I like performing but...I'd set aside *everything* for you. I don't want *anything* as much as I want to be with you."

He squeezes her hand back. " But you're so good, T. Better than the rest of the girls in there, even Rachel."

She knows he's exaggerating - and even if he does think it, she knows it's mostly because he's blinded by love - but she quirks a smile, cocking her head. A damp tendril falls over her shoulder. " I'm good at *a lot* of things. I get straight As, I have my grade 8 in piano, I'm on the Honor Role, and I'm an Academic Decathalete."

" I know."

She shuffles on the bed until she is sitting next to him, her legs thrown over his lap. " You know why I didn't audition for a solo at Nationals last year? Why I'm never in a diva off with Rachel or Mercedes or Kurt? Because... because I cry for an hour if people don't like me. It hurts. It makes me unhappy. I don't...I don't want a life that's filled with those moments, Mike. I don't want a life where for five minutes of joy under a spot light is followed by six months of struggling and rejections."

" You might not get rejected."

Tina scoffs, but it's softened by her fingers rubbing his shoulder. "*Everyone* gets rejected. Even Rachel and Kurt are going to get rejected and they breathe it."

He takes her hand, bringing it to his lips, and kisses her fingers. " I just want you to be happy."

She can't help but smile then, her stomach flipping in a completely pleasant way. " I know." And she does. " I want me to be happy too. That's why I don't want Tisch anymore."

Mike studies her - *staring* at her with such intensity that she almost squirms on the mattress - before finally nodding his head. " Okay. So what's the new plan?"

He's so calm, so completely unflustered that it almost makes her startle. " What?"

He leans back, stretching out his long legs, " No Tisch, fine. But you're Tina Cohen-Chang." He shoots her a wide grin. " I assume there's a Plan B."

She can't help but grin back, and she slides off the bed, going towards her desk. Carefully, slowly, she reaches into one of the drawers, sliding a big envelope out from under a pile of papers. She tosses it into his lap. " UCLA. Politics and women's studies."

Mike stares at the brochure, at the bright picture of smiling undergrads, the college name splashed across the front. Finally, he looks up at her, and slowly licks his lips. " I could live with California."

With a squeak, Tina launches herself across the room, her arms going around his neck and her lips pressing hard against his. His hands are on her back when she pulls away. " They have a dance program. It's supposed to be good."

They rest their foreheads together, words and breath mingling in the space between. " I'll get the form from Miss Pillsbury tomorrow."

She leans in, kissing him again, kissing him until he's breathless and her chest is heaving. Mike presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. " You're sure this is what you want?"

The grin that takes over her face gives him his answer, but her words confirm it. " I really think it is. I think I'll be good at this. I think I can make a difference. You sure you still want to come with me?"

His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her towards him til she's straddling his lap and their bodies are pressed together from hip to shoulder. His words are soft, but definite. " Tina, you can do whatever you want to do, and be whoever you want to be. And I'll be there with you, if you want me there. If you'll have me."

When she kisses him, both sets of fingers clutch at bare skin. " All day, every day. I love you."

" I love you."

When he kisses her back, there are no more words.

XxX

Meanwhile...in the bathtub.

Somehow, even though the whole bathroom is free, they end up sat at either end of the bathtub, taps sparkly chrome between them, legs crossed and face to face. Santana fiddles with her phone, turning it over and over in her hands, and Kurt fiddles with a stray thread on the cuff of his sweater. Both pretend not to hear the voices, the movement around the adjoining room.

Kurt clears his throat. " You know, I never did thank you for helping me get back to McKinley," he starts, nudging Santana's toe with his own.

She simply shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder, trying to appear uncaring but unable to quite shake the slight look of discomfort. " I didn't really do anything."

" Yes, you did," Kurt argues, his voice calm but definite in the small, tiled room. " I mean, it was twisted and kind of self-motivated, but what you did was a good thing. And I appreciate it."

Santana rolls her eyes, and he can't believe it but she almost *blushes*, and won't quite meet his gaze. " Yeah, well, if you ever repeat this I'll deny it, but it's actually kind of nice having you back. I need someone else around who knows how to keep it real. Not to mention keeping Berry in her box."

They share a smile at this, but Kurt can't help but add, " It pains be to admit, but you know we're not as good without her."

" Doesn't mean I don't still get sick of the sound of her voice," Santana bites back, but then throws her hands up in the air. " Okay, fine, she's the most annoying person I've ever met but the girl can sing like whoa. And, she's pretty much the reason we got to Nationals even if her ill-timed mackage with your brother cost us the win."

Kurt rolls his eyes, but can't help but mumble the correction, " *Step*-brother."

Santana kicks him in the leg and he yelps a curse, looking worriedly towards the door (the last thing he wants to do is interrupt Mike and Tina's heart-to-heart) before shooting Santana a murderous look. " Satan," he hisses.

" Lady face," she bites back.

He kicks. " Bitch."

She kicks back. " Queen."

" Barbie."

" Diva."

Kurt flicks his bangs back from his forehead. " And proud."

They stare at each other for a long beat, and then both collapse into laughter. It's relief; both sets of shoulders relax, muscles unclench. Resting his chin on his palm, Kurt sighs deeply. " I feel like I missed so much when I was at Dalton."

Santana nods, almost sagely. " You did."

" Yeah...weren't you straight when I left?"

This leads to an all-out wrestling match in the porcelain confines of the bathtub, and while Santana's scrappy Kurt's grown this year and is surprisingly strong. Grabbing her wrists in his hands - and avoiding the flailing knees aiming for his crotch - he pins her against the side of the tub. " Truce?" he laughs, breathless.

She's scowling but laughing, wiggling her toes. " Truce," she finally concedes, pulling herself up, but not moving all the way back to her original spot. Their legs overlap. " You also missed Finn getting his hand caught in the vending machine. He dislocated two of his fingers trying to get a DingDong."

Kurt's brow furrows. " He told me that was a football injury!"

Santana scoffs, " Yeah, like hickeys are caused by falling on a vacuum cleaner. It took them two hours and a call to the fire brigade to get him out."

There's laughter, and Kurt settles back, crossing his legs at the knee. " What else?"

" Brit got drunk and upchucked on Rachel in our Alcohol Awareness assembly. Oh! And I forgot you missed the 'Mr Schue and the exploding highlighter' incident. It was epic. Like a neon yellow vest massacre."

" My pet canary died."

" Brit outed me on the internet."

" I made out with Blaine after eating kiwi-lime pie and he ended up in the Emergency Room."

" Wanky."

There's laughter, and then a long pause, and Kurt reaches out and pokes her in the knee, avoiding the newest Cheerio-practice-related bruises. " I'm sorry you weren't Prom Queen."

Slowly, carefully, she pokes him back. " I'm sorry you were."

Silence fills the small room for a moment, until they both become aware of the rhythmic banging from next door, and the low sound of Mike's voice. Groaning. Kurt blushes scarlet and claps his hands over his ears. " Oh god."

Santana cracks up, quietly but completely, holding at the stitch in her side before reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a pair of headphones. " Plug in," she insists, tossing her phone into his lap. " It's not show tunes but I'm sure it's preferable to your friends' sex noises."

" Oh god," he just repeats again, covering his eyes with his hand. " I'm going to need some serious therapy after this."

Scooting over, she huddles next to him, grabbing one of the earbuds and putting it in her own ear. " Volume to max," she insists as the sound on the other side of the door increases. Kurt winces, but does as instructed.

For the next hour they sit and listen to Santana's favourite mix, singing along quietly, and blocking out everything around them. They get so engrossed, that both of them jump at the sound of the door being pushed open.

Mike stands in the doorway, hair rumpled, and shirtless, boxers hanging low on his hips. " Hey," he greets.

" Hi," they answer back, in unison, trying not to stare.

He rubs his eyes with the back of his wrist. " Not that I mind, but what are you doing in Tina's bathtub?"

Unwinding himself from Santana, Kurt climbs out of the tub, managing to look graceful even as his legs protest the amount of time they've been curled up. " You didn't know?" he asks, holding his hand out for Santana. " It's *the* place to be seen."

She takes his hand, hopping out, her skirt riding high on her thighs. " Totally now."

Mike looks at them, eyebrows raised, as though they've probably lost their minds, " Riiiight," he agrees with a slow, appeasing nod. Then, shuffling on his feet, he adds, " Well...not to be rude but...I have to pee."

Kurt and Santana look at each other and break into laughter, slipping out of the open door. The bedroom is dark, and they can make out Tina's naked back sprawled out on the bed, sated and asleep. Kurt quietly grabs his messenger bag and Santana's purse from the floor and they exit the room with their fingers pressed over their lips, muffling their laughter.

On the Cohen-Chang's front step, they look at each other and grin, wryly. Both fix their hair and Santana slips on a pair of large, dark glasses, her face lighting up at the sight of an idling motorbike and a familiar blonde parked at the curb. " Later ladyboy," she tosses out, strutting away, swinging one leg over the back of the bike in a way that makes her dress ride up her thighs.

" Go with God Satan!" he calls back, giving her his 'Princess Di' wave.

She gives him the finger and they both grin, and then Santana's gone in a whir of long hair, kicked up dust and bad-assness.

Kurt slips into the front seat of his Navigator, and smiles, shaking his head. He pulls out onto the street.

It's not the outcome he expected for his afternoon, but after you've spent an hour in a bathtub with someone while your friends have sex next door, a bond forms, no matter how unlikely.

XxX 


End file.
